


The School Is Not My Personal Brothel

by WennyT



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho and Changmin get caught kissing and are given detention. Yunho just wants to write his lines. Changmin, however, has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The School Is Not My Personal Brothel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mouldsee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouldsee/gifts).



> Dedicated to my eonnie.  
> This is how [Shim](http://media.tumblr.com/94374b91f0977ec96d9572f029449ef2/tumblr_inline_mv4t3oQE4e1rq6ma5.jpg) and [Jung](http://media.tumblr.com/f3e6ec04c99eac9a570a18fdfa8304eb/tumblr_inline_mv4t47piy61rq6ma5.gif) look like in this piece.  
> Hastily written, too sloppy and entirely too shallow.

* * *

 

 

Changmin licks along the curve of Yunho’s lip, and leans in closer, nearer. Yunho opens his mouth with a soft, eager sound, and Changmin takes advantage of it, curling his tongue along the edge of Yunho’s.

 

They are just getting to the good part when a loud noise off to their right sounds.

 

 _Bang_! They skitter apart, turning towards the light that is suddenly in their eyes. Changmin squints, half blinded by the brightness, arms still about Yunho, when the light bulb hanging in the broom closet they are currently sequestered in, flickers on. Yunho’s glasses are askew on his face, and his school jacket is rumpled from the enthusiastic mauling Changmin was giving him.

 

Changmin loves seeing Yunho like this, all dishevelled and not living up to his good student reputation, and all _his_. All Changmin’s.

 

“Second time this month, you disgusting deviants,” the chemistry department head stands in the triangle of light spilling from the hallway, tone smugly triumphant. “This is a school, not a brothel. Out!”

 

“Oh, Mrs K—” Yunho starts frantically, trying to disentangle himself from Changmin, but Changmin holds on. The teacher taps her feet, the click of her court shoes ringing hollow like gunshots. “I don’t want to hear any explanations. _Out_!”

 

They abandon the broom closet, Yunho meekly, Changmin reluctantly. Yunho shuffles to stand in front of the department head, head hanging down in abject embarrassment. Changmin lifts his chin, determined to meet the teacher’s censoring gaze. He cannot for the life of him remember what the old hag is called.

 

She glares at them, eyes moving beadily from one face to the other. “Detention,” she finally hisses.

 

Changmin opens his mouth to protest, to at least say something, but her gaze sharpens on him. “Say one word and I’ll have you in front of the principal in less than ten minutes.”

 

Changmin snaps his mouth shut so fast that his jaws hurt from the impact.

 

* * *

 

 

So here they are now, in the last classroom on the third hallway, copying lines under the old crone’s watchful gaze. What a waste of their youth, Changmin thinks darkly. He is sixteen and Yunho is eighteen and this by all rights should be the time of their lives. Instead they are stuck in a musty old room that no one uses except for the Anime and Cosplay club, and that only for their monthly meetings too.

 

Changmin writes ‘I must not treat the school as my personal brothel’ for the two hundred and seventy ninth time and sighs, tapping his pen against the lined paper. Beside him, Yunho is scribbling away diligently and on his eleventh sheet of paper.

 

Changmin thinks Yunho is at least three hundred sentences ahead of him.

 

“Why aren’t you writing?” The hag seated at the desk ahead of them snaps, and Changmin envisions stabbing his pen through her head. Yunho’s pesky sensibilities about respecting one’s elders would probably get offended though, and an offended Yunho means no playing around and no sex.

 

So Changmin presses his lips together in impotent frustration and turns back to his paper. He prints his words for a line, and writes them in cursive for the next. The next ten minutes is spent like this, and Changmin is even starting to enjoy himself while thinking of the way the veins in the nasty old bitch’s forehead would stand out when she sees his handiwork.

 

A series of knocks on the classroom door makes all three of them look up; Changmin’s face is clouded with stark hope while the psychotic teacher has a dark scowl decorating her features. Yunho merely lifts his head for a second, eyes wide in confusion, before bending back over his lines.

 

One of the seniors is doubled over by the opened door, panting in exhaustion. “Sorry— Need to find you– Chemistry lab— Sixth floor— Trouble— Seniors’ day prank—”

 

She is on her feet and hurrying out the door before the senior can finish, a hand clapped on his still heaving shoulder. She pauses, turns and snarls at Yunho and Changmin, “you two better be here with your finished lines when I get back. Or I’ll have you in the principal’s office and your parents down here, first thing tomorrow. I mean it.”

 

And then she’s gone, scurrying off while dragging the senior behind her. Changmin waits till the clacking of her stupid shoes have faded completely before standing up, a cat-like grin curling the corner of his mouth. He can see from the corner of his eyes that Yunho has paused in scratching out his lines, too. “Well. Well, well, _well_.”

 

He stretches, mindful of the way Yunho’s gaze is hooked on him, and on how arching his back while reaching his hands to the ceiling thrusts his crotch out. His crotch, which is at Yunho’s eye level, and already half hard because he can see from the corner of his eye the way Yunho is eyeing him.

 

“Whatever shall we do to pass the time, Jung?” Changmin drawls, cock hardening more at the way Yunho gulps and pushes at the edge of his spectacles, so that they sit higher up on his nose. “No, Changmin.”

 

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” Changmin protests, but he shoots Yunho a lascivious grin. All the better to make his boyfriend blush. “I’m hurt, Jung.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Yunho warns again, but the blush on his face and the quiver in his voice tells Changmin otherwise. “I know that look on your face, Changmin. And the answer is no.”

 

“If it’s really no, then, why are you shifting in your seat like that?” Returns Changmin, as he leans over to pluck Yunho’s spectacles from his face. He polishes at the lens with the hem of his school shirt and folds the sides in, tucking them away carefully into his side pocket.

 

“I—I’m not!” Yunho stammers, the flush extending to his neck and ears. “And… and… you know how bad my eyesight is without my spectacles! Give them back! I need them to see!”

 

“You don’t need them for this,” Changmin kicks at the tables, kicks them away until he is able to wriggle from his place beside Yunho, until he is able to bend over Yunho, with barely an inch separating their mouths. Yunho tries to lean back, but Changmin has his hands on the back of Yunho’s chair, and there is nowhere for Yunho to escape to.

 

“No, we can’t, what if we get cau—” The rest of the sentence is lost in Changmin’s mouth as he covers Yunho’s lips with his own, worrying at the voluptuous curve of that bottom lip with his teeth. Yunho’s arms push at Changmin, but it is half-hearted at best and Yunho’s hands seem to be more preoccupied with smoothing their way over Changmin’s chest.

 

He sneaks a hand down and gropes at Yunho through the thick cloth of the school trousers, pleased that his boyfriend is already fully hard. The protests start up again once Changmin pulls his mouth off of Yunho’s, however.

 

“No, wait, really, we’re in detention, Changmin, we shouldn’t—” Yunho starts, even as he drifts off in a moan as Changmin sucks a bruise in the curve where Yunho’s neck meets his shoulder. Disjointed words like “shouldn’t”, “can’t” and “wrong” fall from his lips; but he helps in unbuttoning his own shirt, and he does not protest when Changmin hauls him up to half-carry, and half-hustle him over to the teacher’s desk.

 

Changmin grins at the sight of his Yunho, stripped down with just the school trousers left, flushed with arousal and moaning while spread-eagle across the huge, worn desk as though posing for a centre-fold.

 

His own personal centre-fold, Changmin thinks with a streak of possessive jealousy. No one else will get to see this. Or even think about it. Over his dead body.

 

He reaches out a hand to tweak at a nipple, smirking as it tightens into a bead between his fingers. Yunho gasps at that, a broken wheeze of a sound, and reaches for Changmin’s hand. Their fingers entwine, press together as they both tug and pinch at Yunho’s nipple, and Changmin has just enough presence of mind left to bend and mouth at the other, neglected one.

 

“Oh my God, Changminnie!” Yunho writhes, as Changmin widens his mouth and sucks hard, dragging the flat of his tongue along the edge of the areola. He bites down, and Yunho curves a shaking hand about his head, locks his hand into Changmin’s curls and tugs, so that Changmin would come closer, suck harder.

 

The classroom is silent, except for Yunho’s cries, and the sounds of Changmin sucking, obscenely amplified to Yunho’s ears. He finds himself hardening, despite, or perhaps because they should not be doing this. They are being punished. They are on detention. The teacher may come back anytime.

 

And yet, Yunho thinks hazily, and Changmin pulls away with a frustrated snarl, a line of saliva still connecting his mouth to Yunho’s abused nipple; and yet Yunho cannot bring himself to stop encouraging Changmin on.

 

“Fuck,” Changmin gasps, palming at Yunho’s crotch roughly. “Fuck, Yun, you’re so hard.”

 

Changmin’s words are accompanied by his pulling Yunho’s trousers down to the latter’s knees, and Changmin fists a hand about Yunho’s cock, stroking once, twice. The friction lessens because of the amount of pre-come Yunho is leaking, and Changmin has to force his hand away, around back to his own back-pocket, before he loses control and his focus.

 

He drops a travel-friendly bottle of lubricant and a condom packet next to Yunho’s face, on the teacher’s desk, and his boyfriend stops panting long enough to accuse, “you planned this!”

 

“Well, not planned, don’t say it that way,” Changmin replies cheekily, reaching for the bottle of lubricant to dribble conspicuous amounts of it on his fingers. His other hand is busily unbuttoning his own trousers. “More like hoped. But I was hoping for the closet, not this desk. This is better though.”

 

“All the better to see you with.” He leers at Yunho, even as he trickles his fingers down and behind Yunho’s cock, to slip a finger into the latter. Yunho hisses, startled by the cold, but he screws back on Changmin’s fingers, all of his previous reservations gone.

 

He knows it will all be okay, because this is his Changmin, and his Changmin always takes care of him. In the meantime, though, Changmin has made him horny as fuck and that is the immediate problem Changmin should be taking care of. “Oh, more, I can take it, more, get in me, please—”

 

“Decided to stop protesting?” Changmin asks laughingly, even as he tries to fuck Yunho with two fingers while rolling the condom on one-handed. It proves to be too difficult even for him, and he pulls out of Yunho, much to the latter’s consternation, to sheath his own cock with the condom.

 

“No, but we should just do it faster, so that we can go back to— to— writing the lines b-before she comes back— Ah!” A gasp is forced out of Yunho as Changmin rams into him without warning, the squelch of the lubricant sounding absolutely lewd in the classroom.

 

Changmin bends over Yunho, gasping for breath, trying to hold onto his control as Yunho spasm around him, adjusting. They stay like this, for seconds, minutes, hours, years; and Changmin touches his noses against Yunho’s, whispering, “okay?”

 

“Okay,” Yunho breathes, mouths it against the softness of Changmin’s lips. “Okay, I’m okay. I’m good. Fuck me.”

 

A groan slips through Changmin’s teeth at those filthy words, clenched in a nearly futile effort to hold back, because Yunho is amazing and tight and warm and just fucking perfect about him. He pulls back slightly, moaning at how good the dragging friction feels, and shoves back in, eyes fixated on how Yunho’s teeth are worrying at his beautifully plump bottom lip, until the flesh is reddened and bee-stung. “Shit, you’re so beautiful, Yun.”

 

Yunho clenches involuntarily about Changmin at that, so much that it is difficult, too tight for Changmin to fuck into properly. He grabs at Yunho’s legs, hoists them up from where they’re curved about Changmin’s waist till Yunho’s knees are hooked over Changmin’s shoulders.

 

They sigh in tandem, satisfied exhalations of air, as the new angle allows Changmin to shove harder, deeper, into Yunho. Yunho clings, claws at Changmin’s chest, aggravated by how there is still a layer of cotton separating his hands from Changmin’s bare skin. “Harder, Changminnie, please, please, I can take it, harder, _please_ —”

 

Changmin grunts, fucking harder into Yunho, loving the way Yunho’s muscles grasps at him and holds on, as though loath to let his cock go. He remembers dimly that they are in a classroom, and not in the relative privacy of his room or Yunho’s.

 

“You’re facing the door,” Changmin gasps, or rather, moans, against the side of Yunho’s knee, propped up against Changmin’s shoulder. Both of Yunho’s feet are dangling in the air, school shoes and socks still on, and fuck if Changmin does not find that an extremely arousing sight. “Yun. Keep an eye out for… For Mrs Whateverthefuckhername is. Can’t remember. Fuck. You’re tight. Going to come soon.”

  
“No, Changmin, what if we get expelled,” Yunho whimpers, jolted into remembering that they are supposed to be in detention. But the way he clenches down around Changmin, milking at him, as he says “expelled” tells Changmin that his boyfriend is not afraid, not really.

  
“You like the thought of that, huh?” Changmin gives a punishing nip at the soft flesh at the back of Yunho’s knee, grinning when the bite makes his boyfriend squirm and his cock drool. “You’ll love it if we get caught, don’t you, you exhibitionistic slut.”

Yunho loses it at the name-calling. He grunts, screwing himself back down on Changmin, to the hilt, until their balls press against enough other’s. His legs hook tighter about Changmin’s neck and his back arched in an impossibly beautiful curve as he comes, cock spurting strips of white to land on his own chest and Changmin’s, head thrown back and hair in eyes.

 

Changmin thinks it is the most perfect sight he has ever witnessed.

 

Some of Yunho’s semen lands on Changmin’s lips, and he licks at them, the familiar taste of Yunho more than enough to trigger his own orgasm, too. He groans, drawn-out and extended, and grips at Yunho’s thighs hard, so hard that he knows he will leave bruises. The thought makes him shudder in excitement as he comes deep within Yunho, a release of warmth into the latex, and it makes him yearn for the day when he can feel Yunho, just Yunho, against him, as he comes.

 

They lay against each other, Changmin sprawled half on top of Yunho in the afterglow, murmuring and exchanging sweet little pecks of kisses. It takes them more than five minutes to realise that they are still at school, and on top of a teacher’s desk, too.

 

“Fuck,” Changmin mutters into the knot of Yunho’s Adam’s apple, to which Yunho answers with a gurgling laugh. Changmin pushes up and away from Yunho, grumbling, “ guess we should start cleaning up. And get to writing those lines, so that we can leave as soon as possible to continue this.”

 

“Continue, huh,” Yunho beams at him, legs still splayed open and looking extremely well fucked. It is almost enough to tempt Changmin into a second round. Almost. He pulls out of Yunho, and grabs for the rumpled jacket, lying forlornly on the dusty floor, in a somewhat clumsy attempt to clean Yunho up. “Let’s hope the Chemistry lab exploded or something, and she can’t leave because she’s the stupid department’s head.”

 

* * *

 

They find out later, next week, actually, that the Chemistry lab did not quite explode, much to Changmin’s chagrin. But it did suffer a rather debilitating fire, courtesy of a few seniors who decided to see what happens if you take caesium out of the oil medium containing it, and putting it in water over a lit Bunsen burner.

 


End file.
